The endangered cat has been studied and protected since the Taliban fell, but those efforts are in doubt as the war winds down.

Graphics

Two decades after he first aimed a rifle at one of the world's rarest mammals, Karmal again was on the hunt for the elusive snow leopard.

Stalking through the mountains of northeastern Afghanistan, he was getting closer. There were paw prints in the sand and scratch marks on the limestone boulders, signs that the leopard was marking its territory. Karmal knew it could be anywhere, peering at him from an unseen bluff. He moved quietly.

But Karmal wasn't carrying a gun. He held a metal snare. He was working for an environmental conservation organization attempting to better understand one of the world's most vulnerable species. After Karmal caught the animal, it would be tagged with a GPS collar and tracked.

When the Taliban was toppled in 2001 and U.S. forces surged into Afghanistan, a few biologists saw an opportunity on the margins of the war effort. The country's far reaches, barely examined, were believed to contain some of the world's least understood species. But studying them would require complex, sometimes tense negotiations with some of the world's most isolated people.

“It was like a black box,” said Christopher Shank, who worked in Afghanistan in the 1970s and returned after the fall of the Taliban.

A top prey for hunters

In the Wakhan corridor, scientists learned hunters had targeted snow leopard, ibex and Marco Polo sheep populations. The foreign experts met men like Karmal, who killed the animals for pelts, food or simply sport.

But scientists were shocked when they set up motion-sensor cameras to gauge the animals that remained. Persian leopards still lurked in central Afghanistan, a fact no biologist had surmised. Snow leopards had endured in the Wakhan, possibly becoming one of the most vital populations of the species.

The biologists received funding from the U.S. government to set up camps and to hire rangers who would help monitor and protect the species of the Wakhan. That's how Karmal ended up hunting snow leopards with a GPS collar instead of a gun.

“It still feels strange sometimes,” said Karmal, who uses one name, like many Afghans. “But it's my job, and I like it.”

Wildlife conservation no doubt is a peripheral concern to most U.S. and Afghan officials. But the effort is at the forefront of concerns in the Wakhan, where the Taliban is nonexistent. The preservation campaign is a source of jobs, pride and occasionally conflict.

If the Wildlife Conservation Society, the only source of Western funds in much of the Wakhan, loses financial support, dozens of rangers will lose their jobs and the trickle of foreign tourists could dry up abruptly.

With Congress due to determine its financial pledge to Afghanistan this fall, the future of the effort is uncertain.

Karmal says he won't return to shooting the animals – the notion of conservation resonates with him. But other Wakhan residents say environmental protection often feels like an imposition on a traditional way of life.

In the village of Qal-a-Panja, many residents complain about snow leopard attacks. Jama Gul lost six sheep and four goats. Faizal lost three sheep and a goat.

‘They're killing our animals'

The men say they value snow leopards, but they're entitled to keep their animals alive.

“Wildlife Conservation Society is helping the snow leopards survive, but they're very dangerous. They're killing our animals,” Faizal said at a recent meeting with the newly initiated Afghan conservationists.

“They are killing your animals because for decades you hunted all of their prey,” responded Hafizullah Noori, a research assistant with the conservation society.

The split exists in some form wherever the wildlife group has worked in Afghanistan, but biologists say it's not a big problem.

“We see a bit of this, but really, looking across the six years I've been in Wakhan, it's insignificant and on the whole there's very good support for conservation,” said Anthony Simms, a technical adviser for the conservation society.

The organization has helped create some of Afghanistan's first “protected areas” – places of particular biological importance, where the environment remains pristine. In Bamiyan province, one now draws thousands of domestic tourists every year. In the Wakhan, biologists say, hundreds of square miles of nearly unpopulated grassland present another opportunity.

But the future of protected areas is as uncertain as Afghanistan's fragile political or security situation. Snow leopard pelts are easily purchased in Kabul. A border police commander stole a wild Marco Polo sheep from the Wakhan last year and tied it to a tree in his front yard.

Karmal knows the challenges. But he's proud of what he's done, tracking the species he knows well.

“It's important work,” he said. “This is a population that matters to us, and to everyone.”

User Agreement

Keep it civil and stay on topic. No profanity, vulgarity, racial
slurs or personal attacks. People who harass others or joke about
tragedies will be blocked. By posting your comment, you agree to
allow Orange County Register Communications, Inc. the right to
republish your name and comment in additional Register publications
without any notification or payment.